After the Fall
by Lira Tabris
Summary: 'It's been three years, Sherlock. Still, not a day goes by that I don't miss you.' John receives a suspicious text one day, after a particularly vivid nightmare. It couldn't really be him, could it? Post-Reichenbach. Maybe Johnlock if you squint.
1. Chapter 1

"_I-I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this."_

"_What's going on?"_

"_An apology. It's all true."_

"_What?"_

"_Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."_

"_Why are you saying this?"_

"_I'm a fake."_

"_Sherlock-"_

"_The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes."_

"_Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met-The first time we met- you knew all about my sister, right?"_

"_Nobody could be that clever."_

"_You could."_

"_I researched you. Before we met. I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's just a trick. A magic trick. This phone call, it's…it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."_

"_Leave a note when?"_

"_**Goodbye, John.**__"_

* * *

John awoke suddenly, a choked sob escaping his throat.

It's been nearly three years, now. That he's been…gone. The memories still haunt him in his dreams, and will likely haunt him to his grave.

The dreams aren't as frequent as they used to be. Right after what John had dubbed 'The Fall', he would wake up screaming, sometimes several times a night. He still had his bad nights, though, where he would see him crashing to the ground, and all that _blood…_

Even worse were the ones his mind made up itself. Some of them began normally- John would be sitting in his chair, drinking tea and listening to Sherlock ramble on about his Tobacco ashes, or listen to him play the violin at god-knows-when in the morning. Once, they were sitting round a table playing Cluedo with Mrs. Hudson. But then something went wrong- Sherlock would look up, stare at him with the eyes of a dead man. Blood often oozed from his temples. Once or twice, he appeared almost like a zombie, bits of flesh starting to fall off or rot away.

John mentally shook himself. He sat up, glancing at the clock. Nearly five in the morning. He sighed and heaved himself out of bed- he wouldn't get back to sleep after that.

He made himself a cup of tea and sat down in his chair, as he usually did on days like this. Trying to take his mind off things, he switched on the television. Flipping through the channels, he finally decided on an old rerun of Doctor Who.

* * *

The day was fairly uneventful. It was his day off, he didn't have anywhere to be, so he spent a quiet day in. It was late in the evening, and he'd nearly dozed off when his phone buzzed.

_I'm Alive, John. -SH_

The number was blocked. John glared irritably at the text before replying.

_Ha-Ha, you little prick. It wasn't funny three years ago and it isn't funny now. -JW_

John sighed. They really weren't starting with this again, were they? He'd gotten quite a few of these since The Fall, bored teenagers with nothing better to do. He even had his number and email changed a couple times, to get away from the hate mail and prank calls. They stopped eventually.

The phone buzzed again.

_John, this isn't a joke… -SH_

_Who the hell is this? The number's blocked. -JW_

_It's me, John. -SH_

_Oh really? Prove it, then. -JW_

_The first time we met, we went to Angelo's, and he insisted on bringing a candle because he thought you were my date. You left your cane there when we chased after the cab, you hesitated when jumping to another building, and you later ended up shooting the cabbie through a window. -SH_

_Is that sufficient proof? -SH_

John stared at the screen for a moment, at a loss for words.

_How the hell do you know all that? -JW_

_Because I was there, John. -SH_

_If you are Sherlock Holmes, why did you wait until now? -JW_

_I've been…Busy. -SH_

_Busy? Busy with what? -JW_

_I'd rather explain in person. But I expect Baker Street's being watched. Meet me at the Greenhouse Gardens on Birchen Grove in an hour, and delete these texts. You never know who could be watching. -SH_

* * *

**_ A/N:_ **Hi everyone! This is my first multi-chapter Sherlock fic, based on an RP I had with the lovely Miss Larissa. I've made a few small changes of course, but they're mostly with wording and such to try to make it flow better.

I'm hoping to update fairly regularly, this time I thought ahead and used the break from school to build up a small buffer. Expect them to be on Mondays and Fridays, unless something happens. I don't see this being TOO terribly long, but at it's going to be at least 5-6 chapters so far.

Have fun reading, and enjoy!

~Lira


	2. Chapter 2

_John Hamish Watson what the bloody hell are you doing?_ he scolded himself as he pulled his jacket on. It could be anyone waiting for him at that coffee shop!

_And yet…_

John glanced nervously at a slip of paper to verify, yes, this was the place. Taking a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves, he opened the door to the inconspicuous little shop.

It was a nice little place, with flowers and garden ornaments. In the middle of the shop stood a little fountain that poured into a pond, where little koi fish flitted here and there. The cashier glanced up from her phone to mutter an uninterested welcome before going back to her game of angry birds.

He scanned the room for Sherlock. He didn't see him, so he ordered himself a drink, and settled in a corner to wait.

It wasn't a long one. A few minutes later, a man in jeans and a navy-blue hoodie came in, paused, then made straight for the table. He had his hood up, so that you couldn't see his face. He carried himself in an entirely un-Sherlockish manner- He slouched, and dragged his feet when he walked. Nothing like the proud and arrogant saunter of the world's only Consulting Detective. The man stood by the table, seeming to stare at him, before half-collapsing into the chair opposite.

"Can-Can I help you?" John asked. The man sat up.

"John?" He pulled his hood back enough for John to recognize the piercing blue eyes and angular face of Sherlock Holmes.

John's first instinct was to punch him. He quickly decided this was a rather bad idea since the whole point was not to draw attention to themselves. He settled on gaping at him for a few moments instead.

"Blimey, it really is you…" John muttered. "You're ginger now? When did that happen?"

"It's only temporary. Part of a disguise."

"Oh…"

"I expect you have questions, or…?"

"Yes, I have some bloody questions! How are you alive? I saw you fall! I saw the blood! I checked your pulse, there was nothing there!" John hissed.

"Calm down, John. It was simple, really. Remember the truck in front of the building?"

John stared blankly at him for a moment, not getting the connection between the two. He tries, Honestly.

"Oh god, what's it like inside your head? The garbage truck in front of St. Bart's! You didn't see it, your view was blocked. I landed on the bags, safely, minus some bruises and a few broken ribs."

"Then what about the body? Don't tell me you have an evil twin or something…"

"There are plenty of ways to fake a death, John. There was a reason 'I' landed on my face. And those doctors weren't real doctors. You remember the Homeless network?"

"Why-Why did you wait until _now_? Everyone thought you died that day, Sherlock. There was a funeral and everything. Most of us have moved on by now…It's been _three years_, Sherlock…"

Sherlock leaned in, whispering furiously. "I had to be sure it was _Safe_, John! Everything I've done, it was for you, , Lestrade…To keep everyone safe. I had to be sure, or else it'd all be for nothing, John." He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "The limp is back, I see." He nodded at the cane, crossing his arms.

"So it is." He replies, crossing his arms as well. He licks his lips- Nervous twitch.

The hostess comes over to the table. "Sorry, We'll have to close up shop soon, but you can have another cup of tea if you like." She looks a little nervous, and obviously new here. Sherlock nods. "Yes please, that'd be lovely." She nods quickly. "Alright then."

She turned to leave, but seemed to catch herself. "Say, you look like that bloke that was in the news a few years back. Jumped off of St. Bart's. Holmes, I think his name was…"

Sherlock smiled. "You know, you'd be surprised how often I get that. It's the strangest thing, I've never met the man in my life!"

"No, I s'pose you couldn't have. It's a shame what happened to him, though." She muttered as she wandered off to make the tea.

"And that, John, Is our cue to leave."

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry it took so long, I didn't get a chance to post before I had to leave for school. ^_^

So anyway, the reunion! Keep reading, next chapter's up on Monday. I think I might post three times a week instead of two, it depends on how much I get done this weekend.

'Till then,

~Lira


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stood and turned toward to leave, grabbing John's arm. He barely remembered to grab his cane before he was half-dragged out the door.

Once outside, Sherlock glanced around nervously, making sure no one is watching. John does the same. Satisfied they'd gone unnoticed, Sherlock relaxed.

They walked for a while, going nowhere in particular. "Where to go now?" Sherlock mused aloud.

"Not back to Baker Street, definitely. Mrs. Hudson would know, then the whole street would. Darling woman, don't get me wrong, but she needs to learn to keep her mouth shut." John mutters, smirking.

"No point in hiding it, John. She'd know the moment you walked in the door!"

John notices how much better his shoulder feels. How he's hardly using his cane at all. Oh yes, she'd definitely know.

"I suppose we could pay Mycroft a visit. The look on his face would be priceless." he chuckled.

They walked in silence for a while, until Sherlock piped up again.

"I saw you at the cemetery the other day…"

John stopped. "Ah, y-you did?" Sherlock nodded. "I always get this weird feeling when I'm out there- Like I'm being watched. That-That was you, wasn't it?"

"Sometimes, yes. Some of the things you said were…quite touching, actually."

John turned slightly pink, but raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is the great Sherlock Holmes finally having his first emotion?" he teased. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Finally they arrived at Baker Street. John fumbled for his keys as they approached 221B. As John opened the door, Mrs. Hudson came hurrying in. "Oh John dear, there you are! I was beginning to worry-" She stoped when she saw Sherlock. "Sherlock, dear!" She ran up and hugged him. Stepping back, she sighed. "Oh Sherlock, the mess you've made…"

"Not-Not now, Mrs. Hudson. I'll explain everything later."

"Alright dear, I expect you're tired. You look like you haven't slept in weeks! And haven't you been eating properly?" she tutted as they headed into the flat.

John hadn't changed much at all, minus the lack of experiments in the kitchen. The papers had been put into neat little stacks, too, but they were still all over the flat. Sherlock throws himself onto his couch, glad to be back.

There was a knock at the door a few moments later. Mrs Hudson bustled in, carrying a tray with tea and snacks. "Just thought you boys could use a nice hot cuppa and some nibbles." She smiled.

"Thanks."

"Well don't get too used to it. I'm still not your housekeeper." she smiled again. "Well, I expect you two have some catching up to do, I'll leave you to it." She said with a knowing look as she left again.

_Bloody hell, she isn't going to start with that again is she?_ John sighed irritably, and helped himself to some tea and food. They eat in silence for a few minutes, John having glared menacingly at Sherlock until he took a sandwich too.

Finally, Sherlock set his half-eaten sandwich aside and stretched out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm bored. Do we have any cases?"

John stayed silent for a moment. "Sherlock…Lestrade thinks you're dead too. At least officially."

"So what, you stopped taking cases completely? I thought I taught you better than that, John." Sherlock says with an air of disappointment.

"It's not like- It…It just felt wrong, okay? I tried, but…It just didn't work. Lestrade still calls though. I think sometimes he forgets."

"Maybe someone should let him know."

"Sherlock it's nearly ten o' clock. I'm not going to call him up at this time of night."

"Ten is late now? You're kidding!"

"Yes, Sherlock, it is!"

Sherlock suddenly hopped off the couch, and started pacing. "Where's my Violin. I need my Violin, John." John coughed.

Sherlock spun to face him, glaring menacingly. In tone he most likely deemed 'calm', he spoke. "Where is my Violin, John? Don't tell me you did something to it…"

"No no! It's in the closet. In its case. Safe and sound."

Sherlock sighed. "Ah. Good."

Practically sprinting to the closet, he grabbed the violin and began to play, wandering about the flat. There was a knock at the door.

John jumped at the sound, even louder than the music. "Sh-Sherlock just shut up a minute would you?" he whispered, pushing him into the kitchen and out of sight before answering the door.


	4. Chapter 4

He opened the door to find a distraught-looking Molly. John invited her in quickly, sitting her down on the couch and bringing her a cup of tea.

She sipped her tea for a moment, trying to calm down. Her eyes were red- she'd obviously been crying. "What happened?"

She looked up, looking frightened, as if debating whether or not to tell him. Wondering why on earth she went there in the first place.

"It's…It's this man I've been working with. Worked with. I haven't actually seen him in years, really. But I heard he came up missing about a week ago. They...They think he could be _dead_, John." she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I miss him."

John sat down next to her on the couch, and patted her back sympathetically. She hiccuped, wiping her tears away again. She looked as though she were about to say something, but at that moment Sherlock chose to start playing again, the music drifting through the air from the other room.

"W-What's that?" Molly asked, confused.

"Oh, hang on. I must've left some music on." before she could question him further, John stood and rushed into the kitchen.

"Damn it, Sherlock!" he hissed, "I thought you were trying to lay low?"

"But laying low is BORING John!" Sherlock pouted childishly, setting aside the instrument.

"John, is something going on? Is everything alright in there?"

"N-No, everything's fine Molly!" John called into the sitting room. "I don't care, just shut up! She's getting suspicious!"

"I'm BORED."

"Quit being such a child! Just-Go play on the computer or something. Something _quiet_." He hissed.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed into a condescending glare. "I don't 'play' John. I research."

"_THEN GO DO SOME BLOODY RESEARCH THEN_." John said, throwing his hands into the air exasperatedly.

"John? Are you sure everything's alright? I thought I heard-"

"Nonono, it's fine Molly! I'll be right there!" John called back again. "Just GO!" John whispers loudly as he heads back into the sitting room.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Ah, no one! I was just talking to myself is all. Heh." John laughed nervously. Molly eyed him suspiciously.

The silence stretched on awkwardly for several minutes, neither sure what to say, until suddenly they both heard 'God Save the Queen' on violin coming from the other room.

"That stereo of yours certainly has a mind of its own, doesn't it?" Molly quipped. John just shrugged nervously as he hurried back into the Kitchen.

"_WHAT DID I JUST SAY SHERLOCK?"_ John whispered angrily. Sherlock stopped playing with a sigh, and he snatched the instrument away, half-tempted to snap the damned thing over his knee. Sherlock looked as though he was going to say something rude for a moment, then got an odd look on his face. John heard a woman's gasp from the doorway.

"Sherlock!" Molly half-screamed, rushing forward and pulling him into an embrace. "You're alive!" she sobbed.

Finally Sherlock managed to peel the hysterical woman off of him. Molly, starting to calm down now, stared up at him accusingly. "You weren't even going to tell me, were you?" she screeched. "And you, John?" she added in the same voice, almost an afterthought.

"I would have told you eventually-" She slapped him, hard. Sherlock looked about to cut in for a moment, and she slapped him too. She then pulled him down by his collar and kissed him.

Sherlock pulled away, startled. "What the hell, Molly?" John shouted. Molly started to pace, hands covering her very-red face. "Oh god why did I do that, I shouldn't have done that, oh god I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-" she babbled, embarrassed.

John gingerly prodded his cheek where she hit him, leaving an angry red mark. "Oh, that's fine. That was _obviously_ a perfectly _normal_ reaction." he said sarcastically. She glared back at him.

Sherlock stood there in stunned silence. He couldn't recall the last time someone had kissed him. Probably deemed it to be 'useless information' and deleted it. "Don't ever do that again, Molly."

Molly looked up at his stern expression, and started to tear up again. John glared at him. He put a hand on her shoulder to calm her, but she just shrugged it off. "M-Maybe I should just go." she hiccuped, trying to get herself under control. She didn't dare look up again for fear she'd start crying all over again. She practically ran from the flat.

Mrs. Hudson poked her head in suddenly. "What's going on? Poor Molly was crying all the way down the hall!" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock, what've you done?"

"What have _I_ done? She slapped me, and then proceeded to kiss me! She was obviously out of her mind."

John sighed. "Sherlock, you told her to 'never do that again'."

"I don't see the problem."

"She was worried about you, and you say something like _that_…I'm surprised she didn't smack you again!"

"Why. Would. You. Do. That." Mrs. Hudson scolded, swatting him in the head with a newspaper.

"Why do women feel obligated to hit me today? Is there a new law?"

"You are going to call that poor girl and apologize!"

"No! If anything, _she_ was being rude! I have nothing to apologize for!" Sherlock sulked, sitting down on the couch.

Several minutes of arguing later, he was holding John's phone, with John and Mrs. Hudson sitting next to him, glaring.

Molly picked up, her voice raw from crying. "Listen, I don't want to hear it, John!"

"It's not John…"

"Sherlock? What do you want?"

"I…Apologize…" John waved him on, mouthing 'Apologize for what?'

"I apologize for my apparently uncalled-for reaction to your rudeness earlier."

Molly laughed bitterly. "You always say such horrible things, Sherlock. Why do I still put up with you?" She mused.

"What?"

"Goodbye, Sherlock." _click_.

"What did she mean by that?"

John smacked him. "Sherlock Holmes, you are the most spectacularly ignorant man I have ever met."

"Nonsense, I'm a genius." Sherlock grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry it's so late! I meant to post the new chapter when I got home from school but then Minecraft...

Anyway, I hope you liked it! New chapter up on Monday as usual, and I'm going to try and get some more writing done this weekend.

~Lira


	5. Chapter 5

_My song for this chapter was 'How to Save a Life' by The Fray, if anyone's interested._

* * *

Mrs. Hudson got up with a sigh. "I'm getting too old for this. I'm going to bed." She glanced back on her way out the door, "I'd give her a day or two to cool off, if I were you." And with that she left.

Sighing, John stood for a moment, staring at Sherlock. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if concentrating, then shook himself. He skulked off to his room without a word.

Concerned, Sherlock followed him. Peering into the room, he found John sitting at the foot of his bed, his head in his hands.

"John…Is everything alright?" He asked tentatively. He wasn't good with _emotions_. He dealt in facts. Unsure how to help, he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"No, Sherlock, it isn't alright." he snapped back. They stood in silence for a few moments. John started pacing nervously. He muttered things here and there, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

"I'm…I'm trying to figure out if this is real, or…or if I'm losing it again." He said, looking back at Sherlock, before going back to pacing, shaking his head.

"_Again_?"

John's shoulders slumped in defeat. Whether this was real or not…He felt as though he should explain himself. Sighing, he sat on the edge of the bed again.

"After you…_died_…It was hard. For all of us. But I kept it in, I played the brave little soldier- I couldn't let them see me break like I did that day." He said, fidgeting a little, as if trying to force the words out. "At the Funeral, they all treated me like the grieving widow. I visited that grave every Sunday. Every Sunday for the past _three fucking years_, _Sherlock_!" He shouted. But then the anger faded, his voice becoming quiet, almost ashamed. "I…I thought I saw you sometimes, out of the corner of my eye. Just flashes; A blue scarf disappearing around a corner, Blue eyes staring from a distance, things like that." He was silent for a moment. "I tried to take cases in my free time, I really did. I kept imagining you were there with me, walking me through it. Or that you would burst in at any moment, and scold me for not telling you about the case sooner. But you didn't. It felt wrong. The limp came back, worse than ever. I started seeing the therapist again. She told me to get a pet. Like a bloody housecat can replace a brilliant mind like that…" He trailed off. "I sound mad to you, don't I?" He looked up at Sherlock, his eyes pleading. He noticed the tear-tracks running down his cheeks, the only sign he had been crying. He looked away quickly; his voice remained steady, but pained. "What does it matter anyway? You're just another ghost. I'm having another breakdown, must be! That-That was the last time I saw you this clearly. It's all a bloody dream, isn't it? Oh god, I hope Mrs. Hudson doesn't find me rambling on like this, she'd have me committed!"

Sherlock grabbed John by the arms, and made him look him in the eyes. "John…John look at me. _Look at me._ I'm here now, John. Everything's okay. You-You don't have to worry anymore." His voice broke towards the end; It pained him to see his best friend like this.

John looked up at the taller man, startled. His apparitions were never so forceful before. Usually it was obvious even to his grief-stricken mind that they were simply wishful thinking, even in the bad times. They'd never grabbed him before, either. They couldn't, not solid enough. Before he could stop it, a choked sob escaped his throat. This had to be real. John didn't think he could take it if it wasn't. It must be. Either that, or…

"Sherlock?" John muttered quietly, trying to calm down from his earlier hysterics.

"Yes, John?"

"Am…Am I dead too?"

"No John. We're both alive. Everything's okay now."

John jumped up again, suddenly, pacing frantically. "Oh god, I'm finally losing it! This can't- Stuff like this only happens in movies!"

"No you're not!" Sherlock shouted. He slapped the doctor across the face. "If this were a hallucination, then how do you explain the waitress recognizing me, how do you explain Mrs. Hudson, Molly?"

John just continued to pace, shaking his head. "Nonono, this isn't happening!" John glanced to the desk drawer. The one where he kept his gun.

John made a dive for the drawer. Startled by the sudden movement, Sherlock grabbed him. John struggled, finally managing to pull open the drawer. He took out the gun, its metal glinting impishly in the light. Laughing like a madman now, he turned it on himself. It was loaded.

"If this is a dream, then maybe _this_ will wake me up!" He laughed bitterly.

The shot fired.

* * *

**A/N**: Oh cliffhangers. ^_^ There's probably only going to be a few more chapters, one more and then the epilogue. Next Chapter on Friday as usual, unless I finish early or something.

~Lira


	6. Chapter 6

_The shot fired…_

…_Into the far wall._

Sherlock quickly wrestled the gun away from John before he could try again.

"I told you John, this isn't a dream!" He hissed, shoving the shorter man back onto his bed. John stared blankly up at him, looking dazed.

Sherlock sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe _I_ have to tell _you_ this, but you need to sleep John. Hopefully you'll have regained some of your senses in the morning." Sherlock proceeded to collect any dangerous objects from the room, while John stared on blankly.

* * *

"You're staying in there tonight!" He called from the other side of the door, having erected a makeshift barricade in front of it, so that John wouldn't try anything during the night. John continued to bang on the door and shout obscene things at him from the other side.

Mrs. Hudson hurried into the flat, having heard the commotion.

"Sherlock? Is everything alright? What's happened?" she said worriedly.

"No it's not, Mrs. Hudson. John…John's just tried to shoot himself."

"What? The poor dear! What happened?"

"It's a long story; suffice to say John's in a bit of a state."

"I should talk to him-"

Sherlock moved, blocking the doorway. "I don't think that's a wise choice at the moment. John…isn't very happy at the moment." As if to emphasize his point, a stream of exceptionally colorful curses sprang anew from the other side of the blocked door. "Perhaps it'd be best if you came back in the morning."

After seeing her out again, Sherlock, not tired himself, decided to confiscate John's laptop and catch up on his blog. After a while, the banging and scratching subsided and John accepted the fact that he'd be stuck there for the night.

A little while later, Sherlock could hear a voice calling weakly from the room. "Sh-Sherlock? Are you still there?"

"Yes, John."

"Can you come here?"

Sherlock sighed. "You're not getting out of there, John."

"It's not that…I-I don't want to be alone. Please?" The voice pleaded with him.

Sherlock sighed and set the computer aside. Moving the chair he used to block the door, he peered cautiously inside. "What do you want, John?"

The man in question was curled up under the blankets, shivering. "I dunno, just…sit with me?"

Sherlock chuckled. "And who's the child now?" He teased gently, entering the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Shut up, you." came the muffled reply from the particularly large, John-shaped lump in the thick duvet.

Sherlock just grinned, leaning against the headboard and bringing his knees up to his chest. Neither of them spoke for a long time, and eventually they both drifted quietly off to sleep.

* * *

**_A/N:_**Short chapter is short. And also early! Decided to post a little earlier than usual, since I'm probably not going to get the chance tomorrow. This is going to be the last actual chapter, but I do plan on doing an epilogue. It'll probably be up on Monday, if all goes well.

Thank you, all of you who've read this, favorited it, and followed it! I think this may be the first multi-chapter fic that I've actually written a proper ending for.

Thanks for reading!

~Lira


	7. Epilogue

_It's been a couple weeks now, that he's been…back. It's still strange. I wake up in the morning, and there he is, hunched over whatever experiment he's been working on, or asleep on the couch watching crap telly. After three years of thinking I'd never see him again, it's a little scary._

John smiled a little at the blue-robed detective sulking on the couch opposite. It was like nothing had changed. It was home again. Baker Street just wasn't the same without Sherlock.

_With his name cleared and Moriarty gone, there's nothing stopping us from taking cases again, I suppose. We've decided on starting out small, though. Wouldn't want to attract too much attention just yet. Sherlock isn't happy about it, but he's agreed. I'll try to write some of them up, if they're interesting enough._

Sherlock, catching him staring, pulled a face and rolled over to face the wall with a pout. John just smiled wider.

_We'll try not to get into __**too**__ much trouble._

_-JW_

* * *

**A/N: **THERE we go! I decided to just keep it simple.

Although now I have this awful compulsion to write something horrible happening to them.

_I blame Moffat_.

Anyway guys, thanks for sticking around! I made myself see this through to the end, I have too many fics that I just...lost steam on, and I really liked this one. Hopefully I'll see you guys next time around!

Cheers,

~Lira


	8. Alternate Ending

When John woke up Sherlawk was sitting next to him, watching him.

"Sherlawk?"

"I love you Jawn." Sherlawk murmured into his chest.

"You're my best friend Sherlawk." Jawn smiled happily.

"No, Jawn." Sherlawk moved closer. "I _love_ you." he purred.

"Noooo Sherlawk das gay." Jawn frowned.

"B'awww." Sherlawk pouted.

* * *

_The end._

* * *

**A/N:** This is the other ending. My friend Lady Larissa and I were talking over lunch and I said how I couldn't decide how to end it, and the ensuing conversation went somewhere along these lines.


End file.
